“Won’t you suggest a makeover, miss?”,
I looked into her terrified eyes,
Pallid and shaking, the stylist
Nodded only once, in agreement.
No, she didn’t turn to stone.
“They don’t bite”, I admired my wild tresses
Hissing in every size, sleek and lively.
“I prefer woody scents, full of mystery”,
A green bottle of sweet smelling shampoo, and some fancy conditioner-
The stylist was as efficient as an ant before winters.
Lather. Massage. Rinse. Dry.
She grew increasingly comfortable with a head full of snakes.
“Your hair is extraordinary”, her fingers awestruck but,
“Cut off these living locks?”, her voice laced with worry.
“Well it’s just a trim, and…hair grows back.
Oh, and, colour it red.”
The next few minutes of swift scissors moving
Through my hair, brushes and bits of aluminium foil.
The white tiled floor now red with blood,
Or dye if you insist.
“Did you get this from your mother?”,
She struggled to clean the squirming mess,
“A punishment for rape, really.”
Think I saw a small flash of sorry in her eyes,
But I didn’t look up lest it was only my imagination.
“And ma’am…”, “Just Medusa.”,
“You’re all set.”, I saw her smile,
Holding a mirror against my bouncy mass of red.
“Warm winter fashion, would you say?”, My fingers caressing
The now groomed reptiles.
Walking over to the counter,
I tipped the young stylist despite service charges being
Already included in an exorbitant bill amount.
At least she gave me a haircut in a thousand years.
[An imaginary account featuring Medusa from Greek mythology. Her claim of being punished for rape is the reference to Poseidon seducing Medusa in the temple of Athena and Athena punishing the once beautiful Medusa with snakes for hair and poor skin.
P.S- Both the poem and the graphics belong to the author of this blog]